


Clowning Around

by mevious



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Humanstuck, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-22
Updated: 2014-05-15
Packaged: 2017-12-24 07:14:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/936919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mevious/pseuds/mevious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Caliborn is a clown apprenticed to Gamzee Makara. His training finishes and he receives a job offer from one Equius Zahhak, though it's nothing like he expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

A heavy sigh escaped the lips of a young entertainer (read: clown) in training. He carefully put the finishing touches of his cartoonish skull-themed makeup, as he was required to do for every mentoring session. He didn’t have the money for a real mentor, but as was true of most things, with clown mentors, you got what you paid for. And Caliborn was getting Gamzee Makara’s services for free, so he couldn’t really complain. Except he did complain, a lot. Semantics.

He ran a hand over his forehead, pushing his mess of forest green hair back to survey his work. He deemed it worthy, let his hair fall back over his forehead and shook it out, though that didn’t really affect the scruffiness. He donned his signature scowl, sulking out of the bathroom and his grungy apartment entirely. It was only a few blocks to Gamzee’s apartment, so usually Caliborn walked, but today he decided to grab his bike just to make it quicker.

It only took five minutes, maybe less, for Caliborn to arrive. He didn’t even get the chance to knock on the door before it was open and there was Gamzee, “face on” as the older clown would say, smiling down at Caliborn whimsically. And like an asshole. Always like a fucking asshole.

“I got some good motherfuckin’ news for my all up and coming brother.” The words came out smooth, carefree. It grated on Caliborn like shaving a carrot, but he had learned to pick his battles with the more experienced man. Instead of arguing, Caliborn simply raised one eyebrow in a questioning look. He didn’t dare open his mouth, knowing a long string of degrading profanities and insults was all that would spill out, and that would probably ruin his chances of getting this supposed “good motherfuckin’ news [sic]”. The young clown was learning to both entertain brats and hold his tongue when the situation called for it.

Gamzee’s shit-eating grin only widened at the implied question. Caliborn resisted the urge to sneer. “Your training is motherfuckin’ complete, bro! Ain’t that just the motherfuckin’ bitchtits?”

Caliborn narrowed his eyes, somewhat skeptical. If this was a trick, it certainly wouldn’t be the first one Gamzee had played on him, but it would definitely take the cake for the most cruel. Usually Gamzee’s “jokes” were light-hearted and in good fun. The much taller man seemed sincere, though, and Caliborn let the words sink in. He’d been going to mentoring sessions with Gamzee for nearly a year, and if the clown was serious, it was finally over. Finally. A sense of relief seemed to wash over Caliborn as he followed Gamzee into the familiar living room.

He sat down on the couch, an almost-smile twitching at the corner of his lips. Gamzee went to the kitchen to retrieve some form of celebratory brownies and “wicked elixir”, which was actually just a disgusting off-brand soda with weird flavors. His feeling of relief was short-lived, because the second Gamzee was out of the room, an overwhelming feeling of panic flooded Caliborn’s brain activity, shutting out all else. What was he going to do next? His training was complete. He no longer had to show up for mentoring sessions. He had learned how to be a clown, but exactly how was he supposed to go about performing his services? How did he use his newfound skills to make money? He had always thought that he would complete his training, start working as a clown, help pay for his sister’s leukemia treatment and buy whatever the fuck he wanted with what was left over… But he’d never considered the transition from “training” to “working”.

When Gamzee re-entered the room, Caliborn shot him a panicked look, though he didn’t necessarily intend to. The man smiled and placed the two bottles of grape Faygo along with a plate of brownies on the table. “You gotta get your relax on, li’l bro,” he said carelessly. “What’s all up and motherfuckin’ bothering you?” The question seemed innocent, genuine even, but Caliborn’s eyes narrowed. That fucker knew exactly what was wrong. He probably even planned it. He offered to train Caliborn as a clown instead of doing the smart thing and getting a minimum wage job, knowing that in the end Caliborn wouldn’t be able to actually find work. He knew. He wanted this to happen.

“You know exactly what’s fucking bothering me, you clowny fuck! Now that my training’s done, I won’t be able to get a job, and I won’t be able to find anyone who needs a goddamn clown! And I won’t be able to pay for my dumb bitch of a sister’s medical bills, and I’ll just be working that fucking minimum wage job I could have had a fucking year ago, you fucking asshole!”

The rant ended with a noise of simple frustration, followed by a few deep breaths. Gamzee put his hands up, as though in surrender, and laughed. That fucking douche had the gumption to laugh right now. Caliborn could barely believe it.

“Calm the motherfuck down, my brother,” Gamzee said in a very relaxed voice for the emergency situation. “Why do you think I still motherfuckin’ got you all up in my house? Me and you, we’re gonna make some motherfuckin’ miracles, just you wait and motherfuckin’ see my friend. Your training is over, but I still got some motherfuckin’ teacherly advice all up in this bitch. Be patient, bro.”

Caliborn relaxed a little at the statement, leaning his elbows on his knees. He sighed heavily, reaching out to take one of the brownies from the table. He didn’t know what it was about Gamzee’s brownies -- and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know -- but they always seemed to help him relax. He nibbled at it aimlessly, saying nothing for a few moments and staring off into space.

“If you say so,” was all he could muster. As much verbal abuse as he’d doled out to Gamzee, Caliborn had never apologized. Not once. The whimsical asshole didn’t deserve it. Sometimes Caliborn thought Gamzee purposefully pushed his buttons, just to see how far he could take it. Heaving another slightly annoyed sigh, the clown-no-longer-in-training took a bite of the brownie that amounted to over half of it.

The silence that followed was oddly comfortable and lasted until Caliborn had finished his brownie and gulped down half the 24oz bottle of grape Faygo. In that space of time, Gamzee hadn’t touched his Faygo or the brownies, but that was par for the course when the older was trying to appear “wise” or whatever. After an amount of time that felt appropriate, Caliborn looked up from the knot in the wooden table he’d been staring intently at. “Gamzee,” he said almost quietly -- except not really. Quiet wasn’t really a setting on Caliborn’s internal volume control.

“Yeah?” responded the clown quizzically.

“Are you going to fucking tell me what your teacherly advice is or not? Jesus fuck,” Caliborn spat. He wasn’t going to sit here eating potentially drugged brownies and drinking disgusting off-brand soda all day.

“Oh, right, a brother nearly motherfuckin’ forgot. Sorry bro, I spaced out on that one.” Gamzee smiled, standing up from his place on the bright purple recliner. He motioned for Caliborn to follow, leading him to a separate room with several giant bean bag chairs. The green-haired kid could only assume this was Gamzee’s room, but he’d never been in it before.

“Well motherfuckin’ sit down, yo,” Gamzee laughed, making a sweeping gesture at the several multicolored chairs.

Caliborn complied, choosing a bright red one and flopping onto it, not exactly happy with the way he sunk into it uncomfortably. But he supposed he could get used to it, should he ever have a bean bag chair of his own. If bean bag chairs weren’t fucking stupid. Gamzee was digging around behind the biggest of the chairs, and finally he found what he was looking for after several minutes.

His former teacher dragged a bright purple chair next to Caliborn, handing the found object -- a laptop, to be exact -- over to the younger boy. “Now all a motherfucker’s gotta do is send a motherfuckin’ ad all up into cyber space,” Gamzee mused.

Caliborn rolled his eyes, taking a moment to translate Gamzee’s stupid way of speaking, and opened the laptop. “Where the fuck am I supposed to post an ad?” he asked, shooting a glare Gamzee’s way.

It took three hours. There were several “debates”, and blood, tears and sweat went into the ad on both of their ends. But finally, finally the ad was done and posted. The pair of clowns looked it over, each with a stifled sense of pride. The final result read:

ENTERTAINER FOR ALL AGES.  
BALLOON ANIMALS, JUGGLING, UNICYCLE RIDING, JOKES.  
CONTACT CALIBORN.  
(555) 555 0666  
undyingUmbrage@pesterchum.com


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caliborn receives several messages from Equius regarding a mysterious job offer. He agrees to talk it over in person at a diner, although there is some definite bad blood between Caliborn and a certain waitress.

Caliborn awoke late the next morning, although it felt quite early for him. He would have slept longer, except his phone was buzzing and beeping off the goddamn hook for some reason. He groaned loudly, flailing under the sheets until they were successfully flung off of him and onto the floor. If this was Gamzee, he was literally going to flip his lid. The insufferable clown was usually the only one who would reach him via his cell phone. Admittedly, Caliborn didn’t have all that many friends (read: none), and he liked it that way. As far as he was concerned, they could all leave him the fuck alone.

He laid there for a few more minutes until his phone processed all of the incoming texts, emails and voicemails. When it was finally silent, he took a few deep breaths before his bright red eyes finally slid open. Pushing himself up on his elbows, he glared at his phone angrily, as though willing it to just try and make one more motherfucking sound. As if on cue, it gave a mischievous beep as Caliborn’s pesterchum application lit up the screen. Letting out a miniature, less loud version (he did live in an apartment building after all) of a howl of frustration, the green-haired youth snatched his phone off the nightstand angrily. There was a brief moment of debate about whether to chuck the malicious piece of hardware against the wall or check the messages. Caliborn’s grip on the phone tightened, but he held onto it. His eyes finally landed on the screen, the blinking pesterchum window assaulting his still-sleepy eyes.

\-- centaursTesticle [CT] began pestering undyingUmbrage [uu] at 09:02 --

CT: D --> Hello Mr. Caliborn  
CT: D --> Have you received my messages

Who’s this douche bag? Caliborn wondered to himself and sighed, deciding he’d better go to his desktop for this. He skimmed through the various text messages and emails, all from the same asshole. What the fuck was up with his chum handle anyway? Was it really necessary to invoke an image of horse dick (and other nearby components of horse anatomy) every time you messaged someone? What about the stupid D --> at the beginning of every message? What was that supposed to be, even? There were a lot of questions running through the young clown’s mind, but from the look of the texts and emails, this guy might want to hire him, so he should probably be “polite” and not ask at least 85% of the aforementioned questions.

It was 9:05 AM when Caliborn sat down at his computer, a veritable relic of the electronics world. It, like everything else in his apartment, was an utter piece of shit. The only reason he had a half decent piece of machinery for a phone was because Gamzee had given it to him as a gift, and had paid the bill for the past year. Caliborn was sure it was only so the fucker could bother him about showing up to mentoring sessions, but it was an appreciated gesture nonetheless. This was the last month Gamzee would be paying for it, however; now that Caliborn was finished with his training, he was going to take over the bill, whether Gamzee liked it or not.

Caliborn shook his head, bringing his mind back to focus. He didn’t have time to waste thinking about Gamzee; with any luck, he would never see that guy again in his life. He opened pesterchum, glancing at his phone to recall the chum handle he was supposed to contact. He rolled his eyes, remembering the image it called to mind as he read it over. Oh well, a potential job was a potential job. He typed the username into the “new IM” window, trying to type something polite for a change.

\-- undyingUmbrage [uu] began pestering centaursTesticle [CT] at 09:06 --

uu: HELLO. YES. I WAS BuSY. BuT. I’M HERE NOW. WE CAN DISCuSS. WHATEVER THE JOB OFFER YOu TALKED ABOuT IS.  
CT: D --> I’m sorry for contackting you with such udder urgency  
CT: D --> However I require your spurrvices starting tomorrow morning  
CT: D --> Would you be agreeable to meeting somewhere  
CT: D --> We c001d discuss it in person  
uu: uH. ALL RIGHT. WHERE DID YOu HAVE IN MIND. I’M FREE MOST OF TODAY.  
CT: D --> E%cellent  
CT: D --> We will meet at the diner a% the street from the grocery store  
CT: D --> At precisely 10:00 AM

\-- centaursTesticle [CT] ceased pestering undyingUmbrage [uu] at 09:10 --

Caliborn didn’t even get a chance to respond before the mysterious weirdo ended the conversation. A sigh escaped his lips and he figured he should probably get ready. He was roped into going to that stupid fucking diner now. He almost would have preferred meeting in private and risking getting raped and killed to going to that particular place. He stared at his computer a moment longer, then shook his head, getting up and heading into the shower.

It didn’t take him long to get clean and dressed, complete with his signature green suspenders and red bow tie. By the time he was ready, it was only 9:30, and the diner was only about five minutes away. By Caliborn’s figuring, that allowed him approximately fifteen minutes to fuck around, then he would leave. He sat back down on the floor in front of his computer (which didn’t sit on a desk; there was no room in his tiny studio apartment), glancing briefly at his chum roll. One “chum” online, as per usual -- he only had two, and one would likely never log on again. He decided to pester his singular “chum” and spread the good word of his potential job opportunity.

\-- undyingUmbrage [uu] began pestering terminallyCapricious [TC] at 09:31 --

uu: HEY DOuCHEFuCK. SOME ASSHOLE WANTS TO MEET. FOR BREAKFAST. OR BRuNCH OR WHAT THE FuCK EVER. HE SAYS HE “REQuIRES MY SERVICES”.  
TC: AwWwW yEaH lIl BrO  
uu: I AM NOT. YOuR “LIL BRO”. HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO FuCKING TELL YOu. NOT TO FuCKING CALL ME THAT.  
TC: :o( SoRrY mY bRoThEr.  
uu: I GuESS I’LL LET THAT ONE SLIDE. OuT OF THE GOODNESS. OF MY NONEXISTENT HEART.  
TC: HaHaHa FaIr EnOuGh  
TC: :o) MaY tHe MiRtHfUl MeSsIaHs GrAnT yOu A mOtHeRfUcKiN mIrAcLe. HoNk HoNk!  
uu: FuCK YOuR MIRTHFuL MESSIAHS. AND FuCK YOu. CONVERSATION FuCKING OVER, ASSHOLE. tumut

  
\-- undyingUmbrage [uu] ceased pestering terminallyCapricious [TC] at 09:38 --

Caliborn scowled, wondering to himself why he had even thought to message that insufferable douche. He stood up from his computer in a huff, almost walking out the door of his apartment before a thought wiggled its way into his mind. He had planned on riding his bike, but he glanced over at the unicycle propped against the wall by the door. He glared at it. He hated that thing, despite his proficiency. He’d been forced to learn to control the damn thing against his will (thanks Gamzee), and it was a part of his ad. It had been a while, but he was sure he’d remember, and it might help him secure the gig. With an audible groan, the kid grabbed the unicycle and exited his apartment building.

It was slow-going for the first block or so, but it wasn’t long before Caliborn got the hang of the unicycle. It was like riding a bike, if your bike was a stupid one-wheeled abomination that only morons would enjoy riding. It took him a little longer than he had expected to reach the despised diner, but he was still five minutes early -- perfect. He stepped off the unicycle, picking it up and carrying it with him into the diner. He cringed when he noticed the “Please Wait To Be Seated” sign, knowing that it meant an inevitable interaction with a certain someone that he tried to avoid as much as possible. He stood, waiting no more than 45 seconds before he could feel the cold pink glare.

“What are you doin’ here?” an icy yet feminine voice demanded, cutting through the peaceful, quiet diner atmosphere like a chainsaw.

“Listen, bitch, we can stand here and fight or you can take me to a fucking seat,” Caliborn snapped back, his blood red eyes glaring into Roxy’s equally vibrant pink ones.

“Well maybe I say we don’t welcome your kind here.” It seemed she was trying extra-hard not to stumble over her words like she usually did. The girl was making a point.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Just seat me, Roxy.”

“No. You don’t have the money to pay anyway, so why don’t you just scram? Go somewhere else! Maybe go visit your sister in the goddamn hospital for once!”

“For your fucking information, you vile slut, I’m here for a job interview. So step off, bitch, and let me past. I’ll seat my damn self.”

Caliborn stepped past Roxy, sitting down at an available table for two. He would have gladly stood there and argued further, but the clock was ticking and the alcoholic, speech-impeded broad would only have created a scene -- an embarrassing scene. He aimlessly picked up a menu and peered over it, snickering to himself at the sight of Roxy standing there, dumbfounded. He felt a twisted satisfaction at her mild shock and the resulting glare as she stomped off behind the counter. Maybe today wouldn’t be such a bad day after all, Caliborn thought as he checked his watch. Nine fifty-six. Hopefully he didn’t have too long of a wait ahead of him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caliborn and Equius meet to discuss the potential job. Caliborn accepts Eq's strange job offer out of necessity.

Four minutes later, at exactly ten o’clock, Caliborn looked up from the menu he’d skimmed through a few times. His gaze was met with a possibly foreign man waiting to be seated. Caliborn first noticed the cracks in the man’s sunglasses; that was probably the most interesting thing about him. At least, it raised the most questions. If your sunglasses were fucking broken, what was the point in wearing them out? Caliborn shook his head slightly. Beyond that, the man was wearing a black tank top with a blue arrow graphic, grey shorts and the kind of pinstriped grey socks you might wear with a suit… Except these ones seemed to go all the way up to his thighs for some reason. His shoes, adding to the strangeness of the entire spectacle, appeared to be soccer cleats or something of the sort.

Caliborn observed a brief conversation between the man and Roxy that he couldn’t hear, but he imagined it involved her hitting on him and potentially slipping him her number. He rolled his eyes and went back to skimming the menu for the third time. He checked his watch again, and the minute hand barely flipped over to 10:01 when he was startled by the sound of a man clearing his throat. He dropped the menu onto the table and flinched back a bit, eyes widening to the size of dinner plates as he realized the man he had just observed was sitting across from him. He must be the one Caliborn was meeting. Relaxing slightly, the youth ran a shaky hand through his mop of forest green hair, and put on what could barely pass as a smile.

“Oh. Hi,” he said, regaining his composure quickly. He rested his elbows on the table, leaning forward slightly.

“Hello. You must be Mr. Caliborn. The… friendly waitress over there directed me to you with what I must admit was quite the recommendation,” came the response, accompanied with a casual flip of long, silky black hair. “My name is Equius Zahhak.”

Caliborn nodded, committing the name to memory as Roxy appeared with two cups. One contained coffee, while the other contained milk. Equius pulled the milk for himself and slid the coffee slightly towards Caliborn, indicating it was intended for him. The kid pulled it closer to himself, using it to warm his hands as he spoke. “Yeah. That’s me. But. You can just call me Caliborn. That would be good.” He took a sip of the steaming coffee, leaving it black. It burned his lips and tongue, but he didn’t flinch; as far as Caliborn was concerned, he needed to come off as a strong candidate. Even if that meant sacrificing his taste buds for a few hours.

“Caliborn, then. I saw your advertisement online, and I believe you are insteed exactly what I am looking for.”

 _Insteed?_ Caliborn wondered, allowing his curiosity and mild distaste for the pun to show on his face, but only for a fraction of a second. It disappeared quickly, and he recomposed himself. “Well. That’s good. What exactly did you have in mind?”

Equius didn’t seem to notice Caliborn’s look of mild disgust. Or if he did, he didn’t show it. Admittedly, Caliborn was curious about the expression behind those nearly shattered sunglasses. “I am in need of someone of your prhoofession” -- Caliborn resisted the urge to wince -- “to keep a darling girl by the name of Nepeta Leijon entertamed while I go about my daily business.”

Caliborn arched a brow, running a hand through his hair as he considered the statement. It sounded to him like Mr. Zahhak was looking for a babysitter, not a clown. “I’m not exactly. Qualified. For that sort of thing. I’m a clown. Not a daycare service.”

Equius nodded, taking a pen from his pocket and scribbling something on a napkin. “I udderstand. However, if you should decide to change your mind about the services you can offer, then here is what I can offer you.” He slid the napkin across the table, and Caliborn’s stomach sank as he read it.

This guy was offering to pay him a five figure salary worthy of a cushy office job. Not to mention room and board. Caliborn’s heart sank as he considered the ramifications. He couldn’t refuse. He knew he couldn’t say no. He needed this. But to be a live-in nanny? How the fuck was he supposed to do that? He’d never even seen a child close up other than his sister. How was he supposed to take care of one? Keep it alive? He sighed, crushing the napkin in his fist. He supposed he would just have to figure it out.

“All right. You’ve got yourself a deal. But. I have to fucking know. Why the hell would you come to me for this. Instead of a qualified nanny. Or babysitter.”

Equius didn’t smile. The expression he gave was more like a lemon-sucking grimace. Broken teeth showed through tightened lips, and Caliborn raised an eyebrow. “I hoove my reasons, Caliborn. Now, if you wouldn’t mind sticking around a while longer, we can order lunch and discuss the details of the position.”

Caliborn gave a nod, considering what the hell this man’s reasons were for choosing a clown for a nanny position. Surely there were several qualified individuals who would kill for a job like this, especially considering the salary. Then, it hit him. It hit him like a ton of fucking bricks. His expression might have showed anger, but he didn’t care. Gamzee. It was Gamzee. The stupid fucking clown had put this Zahhak guy up to this, knowing that Caliborn needed a job badly -- it was on no merit of Caliborn’s own that Equius had contacted him. He was about to blow up, to demand that Equius tell him the real reason why he was hiring Caliborn and not someone totally qualified to take care of his kid, but his line of thought was broken. His expression changed from nigh-furious to dumbfounded when he realized both Equius and Roxy were giving him strange looks.

“Uh, Claiborn, whattaya havin’?” Roxy asked, her weird speech dyslexia apparent now.

Shaking his head, Caliborn snapped back to reality. “Um. I’ll have a cheeseburger. And fries. I guess. Stop fucking looking at me like that.”

Roxy took down his order, then looked at Equius and mouthed “crazy”, pointing at Caliborn and winking slyly. The clown rolled his eyes, leaning back in the booth and trying to ignore Roxy’s bitchy antics. “So tell me. About this job,” he prompted, crossing his arms over his chest and looking rather surly for someone talking to their new boss.

Equius nodded, his demeanor seeming to become more positive. “You will be looking after someone very deer to me. As I said, her name is Nepeta. I’m a very busy person, Caliborn, and though I wish it were postable, I can’t be there twenty-four-seven to look after her. That is why I’ve come to you. Your responstableities will be to make sure she’s fed and clothed properly, and of horse adheres to her schedule.”

Caliborn mentally translated the puns in Equius’ words, his mind confused by the nonexistent words mixed in with his formal speech. Once he had it figured out, he nodded slightly. “So you basically just want me to. Make sure your kid doesn’t get up to trouble. While you’re gone.”

“Oh no, no, I think you misudderstand. Nepeta is not my calf. She is simply someone deer to me, who has a habit of getting into trouble,” Equius corrected him. This was getting even more confusing.

“Oh. Then how old is she?” Caliborn dared to ask.

“She turned sixteen not two weeks ago.”

Well, shit. This girl was barely three years younger than Caliborn. Why the hell did she need a live-in nanny? Why did she even need babysat at all, for that matter? The whole situation seemed strange to the clown-turned-nanny, but as much as he wanted to back out, he knew he had no choice but to accept. Not unless he could come up with the money some other way, and he doubted very much that he could.

“All right,” he said finally. “So. When do you want me to be there?”

Equius wrote an address down on a napkin and handed to Caliborn. “You will show up at this address with your things at precisely seven tomorrow morning,” he instructed.

Caliborn nodded and took the napkin, committing the address to memory and shoving it in his pocket. He checked his watch briefly, and was surprised to see that it was already a quarter past eleven. He frowned, glancing up at Roxy who was juggling their food on a platter, ready to bring it to their table. “Right. I guess I’ll see you then. But I have to skip out on lunch. I’ve got some bitch to go see,” he said in rushed tones, standing up. He shook Equius’ hand and muttered a quick, muffled “thanks” and rushed out the door. He desperately wished he’d brought his bike instead of his stupid unicycle, but nothing could be done about that now.

As he passed the window on his way down the sidewalk, he saw that Equius must have invited Roxy to share the meal with him, seeing as Caliborn had run off. Caliborn rolled his eyes. Roxy flirted with every male (and some females) to cross her path, and this was apparently no exception. Slut was the word that came to mind, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it. Instead, he rode off as fast as the unicycle would allow, in the direction of the local hospital.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caliborn visits Calliope in the hospital. TW: Calliope bashing/hate, terminal illness.

Caliborn sneered as he stood, unicycle in hand, at the reception desk of the local hospital. It wasn’t the best hospital around, but for the past few months it had kept his twit of a sister sufficiently alive. The medical bills were piling up, and while his sister was the definition of a pathetic fucking charity case, donations and Roxy’s paychecks simply weren’t covering it all. With their parents gone, the bills were left to Caliborn.

The receptionist had told him he would have to wait a few minutes, they were performing some blood tests on the bitch, blah, blah, wasting more money trying to save her dumb ass. He’d rolled his eyes at her, but she was used to his attitude by now. Sometimes the nurses wondered why he even bothered to visit at all, considering how little he seemed to care about his sister’s fate. She was always a crying mess after he left, but they couldn’t deny him visitation. He was the only family member she had left, and the hospital’s bylaws prevented them from barring him access to the poor girl.

Truth be told, Caliborn really didn’t give a damn about Calliope, or her fucking disease, or her life. He visited out of some sick desire to watch her suffer. He glared at the nurse who led him to her room, and shot her a threatening look when she tried to hover at the door. Once she was finally gone, and the twins were alone, Caliborn sprawled over the couch in her room. She looked to be resting, probably sleeping what little life she had left away like the moron she was. Visiting hours stretched on into the evening, so Caliborn didn’t mind allotting her a small amount of time to wake up, but he wanted to be out of here before Roxy’s shift ended and she showed up.

Roxy showed up every free minute she had, bringing books and sugar cookies and ginger ale. Caliborn didn’t know why the fuck she bothered to read to the dying nuisance, considering her speech impediment, but he didn’t care enough to make a thing of it. Roxy just wasn’t worth his time. He cast an annoyed glance at Calliope’s sleeping face, then at his watch. Eleven forty-five. The bitch had fifteen minutes before she was in for a rude awakening.

He pulled out his phone, considering his pesterchum application. His mood, as per usual, was set to rancorous, and Gamzee, as per usual, completely fucking ignored that and pestered him anyway. Caliborn rolled his eyes, but read over the messages.

\-- terminallyCapricious [TC] began pestering undyingUmbrage [uu] at 11:45 --

TC: HoW’D iT gO lIl ClOwN bUdDy? :o) hOnK  
uu: I THINK YOu KNOW DAMN WELL. HOW IT FuCKING WENT.  
TC: WhAt ArE yOu AlL uP aNd MoThErFuCkIn On AbOuT?  
uu: YOu’RE THE ONE WHO PuT HIM uP. TO OFFERING ME THIS JOB. AREN’T YOu.  
TC: If I hAd ThAt KiNd Of MiRaClEs AlL uP mY mOtHeRfUcKiN sLeEvEs DoN’T yOu ThInK i’d Be AlL uP aNd UsInG tHeM fOr MySeLf? ;o) HoNk HoNk  
uu: NO. BECAuSE YOu’RE ALL. WHIMSICAL AND SHIT. THIS HAS YOuR NAME WRITTEN ALL THE FuCK OVER IT. THE GuY’S FACE PRACTICALLY HAD. “GAMZEE MAKARA”. TATTOED ON IT FOR FuCK’S SAKE.  
TC: HaHa WhAtEvEr YoU sAy NaNnYbRo  
uu: FuCKING EXACTLY! HOW THE HELL DO YOu KNOW IT’S A JOB LIKE THAT. AND NOT JuST A STuPID FuCKING CLOWN GIG.  
TC: I hAvE mY sOuRcEs ;o) GoOd LuCk WiTh YoUr NeW mOtHeRfUcKiN jOb! :o)

\-- terminallyCapricious [TC] ceased pestering undyingUmbrage [uu] at 11:56 --

Caliborn glared at his phone for several moments before shoving it angrily back in his pocket, glancing at the clock on the wall. Looked like Calliope was going to miss out on four extra minutes of precious nap time, because Caliborn was feeling impatient. He stood up from his not-too-comfortable position on the piece-of-shit hospital couch, his full five feet two inches just barely enough to create a looming effect over his sister.

He sneered, taking her pallid hand in his slightly more lively one. Unsurprisingly, it failed to wake her. Caliborn began to squeeze her hand, clamping progressively tighter as the seconds ticked on, until finally there was a slight crack and Calliope’s radioactive green eyes shot open. She yanked her hand away, crying out in a combination of surprise and pain before she realized what had happened. Caliborn felt a sense of satisfaction as she seemed to sink into her hospital bed and her eyes dulled slightly when they met his.

He smirked, shoving his hands in his pockets. “It’s about fucking time you woke your pathetic ass up,” he said menacingly. “I’ve been waiting here for ten fucking minutes. Leave it to you to make me fucking wait.”

The girl -- if the pathetic, waste of an organism lying on the bed could even be called a girl -- averted her eyes, and muttered something. Caliborn’s eyes flashed in anger. “Speak up, bitch. No one can hear you when you fucking mumble like that.”

“I said… I said what are you doing here?” came the nervous squeak. She knew very well what he was doing here; he was tormenting her, making her already miserable life that much worse.

Caliborn rolled his eyes. “Pathetic. I came to give you the good news,” he said wryly. Sure, he had acquired gainful employment, but he resented that a big chunk of it was going to have to go to Calliope’s fucking treatment. As far as he was concerned, his waste of a sister could just suck it up.

“G-Good news?” she queried. Suspicion lined her voice, though it was usurped entirely by a note of utter horror. Caliborn’s definition of ‘good news’ usually meant ‘terrible news’ for her. And in this situation, it could very well mean death.

“I got a job. A really good job. Because I’m a fucking genius. And I’m great. I’ll be making a lot of money. So they won’t throw your diseased ass out on the streets. I’ll be able to pay. To keep you here. As long as it fucking takes for you to man up. And stop being so pathetic.” He crossed his arms, glaring down at her to make sure she knew he still fucking hated her, despite his newfound ability to pay for her medical bills.

Caliborn thought he could see tears in her eyes, and he nearly retched in his mouth. Fucking disgusting. There was absolutely no fucking need to get emotional over this, and yet here she was, blubbering and smiling and being generally pitiful and vomit-inducing. He still failed to understand, after nineteen years of living in close proximity, how the hell he and Calliope were related. It made absolutely no sense; they were alike in nothing but looks.

“You… You’d do that for me? You’d pay to keep my treatment going?” she asked warily, but she couldn’t hide the smile on her face, nor in her voice.

“Fuck no. I’m not doing it for you, dumb ass. I’m doing it for me. Because I am the only person. Who deserves to have things done for them. Out of the two of us. I don’t think you understand. I have to pay the fucking medical bills. Our parents are fucking dead, remember? If I don’t pay them, it’s on my fucking head. Besides. If you’re going to fucking die. It shouldn’t be of some fucking tumor. Or whatever. If you’re going to die. It’s going to be because I finally snapped and killed you. Because you’re so pathetic. And stupid.” The veritable speech was a lot of words for Caliborn; normally he wouldn’t speak nearly that much. But he couldn’t stop himself; he loved seeing the smile fall from his sister’s face as he shot down any sense she might have of sibling love or anything even close.

“Oh. Right then,” she responded blankly. The expression on her face could only be described as crestfallen. She heaved a heavy sigh, looking up at the clock longingly. At least Roxy would be here today. Roxy was here every day, but Calliope felt that she could really use the company today of all days. “Is that all you came for, then?”

“No. I also came. To watch you suffer.” Caliborn let that sink in for a moment before continuing. “But I think. I’ve seen enough. Besides, I have shit to do. Shit that is far more important. Than you could ever hope to be.” He smirked, relishing in the hurt in her eyes for just a moment before sauntering out of the room. As visits with his idiotic sister went, that was probably one of the best so far.

It was raining outside when he left the hospital, but that only served to slightly sour his mood. What really did it was Roxy shooting him a glare as she spotted him leaving from the smoking area before she went in to read to Calliope. As far as Caliborn knew, Roxy didn’t smoke; she just liked to hang around smoking areas and take in the second hand smoke for some moronic fucking reason. What idiot invited cancer into their body? Did she want to turn out pathetically bedridden like Calliope? Maybe they could share a fucking hospital room and hold hands while they told stories and compared the treatment for lung cancer to the treatment for acute leukemia. Wouldn’t that be just fucking swell.

The sickeningly sugar-sweet image left Caliborn’s mind muddled, a mixture of hatred and loathing for the pair of girls and their stupid fucking friendship versus a mild arousal at the scene playing in his head. Caliborn spat on the ground, shaking his head to rid himself of the feeling and glowering at Roxy before boarding his unicycle and heading off. He didn’t have the time to berate her, as much as he would have liked it. He had packing to do.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caliborn is annoyed by the fact that Horuss won't stop calling him "Calibarn". TW: Heavy horse punnery.

It wasn’t until Caliborn was almost finished packing that he came to a not-so-startling realization. How the ever-loving fuck was he going to transport all this shit to the appointed address? He groaned, sliding across the floor over to his computer. He opened the pesterchum program and scanned his chum roll, which now contained three people instead of two. He’d taken the liberty of adding his new employer on pesterchum. He was going to have to ask for help moving his shit, which fucking sucked. Caliborn hated asking for help. But if he was expected to move into wherever the fuck, he had to transport his belongings somehow.

\-- undyingUmbrage [uu] began pestering centaursTesticle [CT] at 20:24 --

uu: HEY. ABOuT MOVING TOMORROW. I DON’T DRIVE. SO I DON’T KNOW IF I CAN GET MY SHIT. TO YOuR PLACE.  
CT: D --> Udderstood  
CT: D --> I will send someone with a sufficient vehicle tomorrow morning  
CT: D --> They will arrive at e%actly 6:00 AM  
CT: D --> I e%pect you to be 100% premared

\-- centaursTesticle [CT] ceased pestering undyingUmbrage [uu] at 20:30 --

Caliborn sighed in relief. That hadn’t been as bad as he’d expected it to be. The last thing he had to pack up was his computer, and after that he may as well go to sleep because he had to be up at the crack of ass. He wondered if he should feel nervous about uprooting his life like this, but in all honesty he didn’t give a fuck. His life here, in this piece of shit studio apartment, didn’t mean much to him. For the amount of money Equius was offering, he certainly didn’t mind ditching the place and moving somewhere Google Maps told him was only about forty minutes away by foot, much quicker by bicycle, and with semi-easy access to public transportation.

The kid cursed under his breath with frustration as he fumbled with the tangled mass of wires that had accumulated behind his computer, trying to sort them into something resembling an organized pile. It wasn’t long before he gave up, simply yanking all the wires out and shoving them in a box. He’d figure it out once he got there, he was sure. The wires were followed closely by the bigger parts of his computer, and then his mouse, keyboard, microphone, webcam, headphones, et cetera. By the time it was all said and done, Caliborn had to admit he was getting tired, and decided that now -- approximately nine thirty PM -- was a good time to sleep. It seemed that his internal ramblings and fucking around with his computer had taken more time than he’d expected. So he laid down on the nearly flattened mattress he called a bed, plugged his phone into a nearby outlet and drifted off to sleep.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Caliborn’s phone alarm went off at five thirty the next morning. He groaned, his body unaccustomed to waking up so goddamn early. It wasn’t even light out yet. He slowly sat up and picked up his phone, immediately regretting the contact his eyes made with the bright screen. He fumbled for the volume button, turning the alarm off as he squeezed his eyes shut. He rolled off the mattress onto his knees, and slowly stood, using the wall for support. He headed to the small, greasy bathroom, tripping over several boxes on the way. He quickly relieved himself before taking a quick five-minute shower. It didn’t take long to dress himself and make himself presentable afterward, but by the time everything was done and over with, it was already five fifty-five, meaning he had five minutes to carry as many boxes as he could downstairs to meet whoever the fuck Equius was sending.

He kicked two of the boxes out the door in front of him while juggling two more. He shoved them down the hallway with his foot before finally kicking them down the stairs, hoping the tape would hold. By some gift of fate, it did, and Caliborn trudged down the stairs while awkwardly carrying the two too-big boxes. Several times, he almost thought he would trip, but his feet held him up throughout the entire journey. He eventually made it out to the curb, dropping the boxes and sitting on one of them to wait.

It wasn’t long before a big pickup truck pulled up to the curb. A strange man with Equius’ long hair -- albeit pulled back into a ponytail -- sat in the driver’s side. He was leaned over, peering out the passenger’s side window from behind a weird aviator’s helmet -- goggles over his eyes and all -- for a few moments before he spotted Caliborn. A strange, semi-forced smile lit up the man’s face as he hopped out of the vehicle.

“Well hello! You must be Calibarn!” the man beamed. Caliborn resisted the urge to make a disgusted face at the mockery of his name.

“Yeah. That’s me. Caliborn,” he said, with emphasis on the proper pronunciation of his name.

“Wudderfoal! My name is Horuss Zahhak. I’m Equius’ older brother. How wudderfoal it is to make your equinetance, Calibarn!”

Caliborn couldn’t stop himself before he was rolling his eyes. “Yeah. Same. I still have three boxes upstairs. Just let me go get those --”

“Neigh, neigh! Allow me to assist you! Don’t want you to overwork horself on just your first day!” Horuss’ strange, not quite genuine smile never left his face, leaving Caliborn with an eerie feeling. But the boy nodded just the same, leading Horuss up to his studio apartment.

Caliborn could almost feel the older man’s disdain for his living condition as he looked around. He sighed, shaking his head and pointing out the boxes. Before he could even pick one up, Horuss had already lifted all three. “You must be very excited to be mhooving out of here,” he said mock-cheerily and then he was out the door.

Caliborn remained momentarily, standing in the middle of his now-empty former living space. He’d called his landlord the previous day, making all the arrangements to no longer be a tenant here. Somehow it felt like he was losing something by leaving this place, despite his lack of emotion towards his prior “home”. He shrugged it off, flipping a nonchalant bird to the space before him, then followed Horuss out.

Once they had all seven boxes packed away in the back of the truck, Caliborn began to climb his way to the passenger’s seat. His height, or lack thereof, was not to his advantage when trying to board large vehicles such as Horuss’ truck. He grunted in frustration after slipping a few times, staring defiantly up at the stupid machine. He was just about to try again before he felt hands around his waist, lifting him into the air. He flailed, releasing a shout of mild shock and terror before he realized it was just Horuss. “What are you doing? Put me down, fuck.”

“My, my, young Calibarn, such language does not behoove you,” Horuss mused as he carefully placed the younger boy in the passenger seat. “Oh my, you hoove the perfect stature for jockeying,” he added before closing the door and walking over to the driver’s side.

Caliborn ignored the comment, not entirely sure what to make of it. It was obvious how much this guy liked horses, but was he just saying that for the sake of saying it, or was he hitting on Caliborn? Either way it was weird, and Caliborn just shrugged it off.

Unfortunately for him, Horuss spent the entire ride to the Zahhak mansion going on and on about ‘Calibarn’’s potential for jockeying, and how he’d have to talk Equius into giving the boy lessons… Caliborn let himself space out, watching out the window as they drove into a much nicer part of town. Babysitting, jockeying… It looked like this job was going to consist of everything but the talents he’d spent over a year perfecting. He held back a sigh of frustration, focusing on the scenery outside the truck window.

Thankfully, it was only about a fifteen minute ride before they arrived at what had to be the biggest fucking house in the country. Caliborn had never seen a castle before, but he was sure that’s what this was, or at least damn close to it. His jaw dropped in awe as they pulled into the circular driveway. Waiting for them was Equius, whom Caliborn recognized, and a girl, whom he did not, but he assumed it was Nepeta. His first impression of her was “Damn,” followed by “No. You’re supposed to be her babysitter.” He hopped out of the truck, giving Equius a slight wave as Horuss handed his keys to what looked to be a butler or valet of some sort. Checking his watch and realizing it was barely 6:45 AM, Caliborn decided it was going to be a long day.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caliborn has a run-in with Horuss, and Equius gets a boner.

As it turned out, Equius hadn't been lying about being a busy man. After unpacking his shit and joining the Zahhaks plus Nepeta for breakfast (served by their weird old butler, Aurthour), the man seemed to disappear. Horuss had assured Caliborn that he was probably just on business.

Currently, Caliborn was hunting down Nepeta. For the third time today, which was indeed turning out to be a long day, she had escaped. He was grumbling to himself and checking the multitudes of rooms for her, cursing the fact that he had no idea how long he had left to find her until Equius returned home. That was, until he nearly ran headlong into Horuss, who had a good foot's worth of height on him. "Shit. Fuck. I didn't mean to just. Walk into you."

Horuss laughed. That guy was always fucking laughing, and it creeped Caliborn out a little. "Oh, hay there, Calibarn. Prancy meeting you here."

Caliborn didn't make eye contact; even if he tried, he would only be met with those weird goggles, which for some reason, Horuss still wore, even inside. "Yeah. Whatever. Have you seen Nepeta? I can't find her. The b... She keeps running away. I think she thinks it's funny. To fucking hide from me. Ugh." Whoops, almost slipped up there. Caliborn most certainly did think Nepeta was a bitch, but he would do well not to say that to his employers.

Horuss was visibly flustered by the question, causing Caliborn to narrow his eyes at him, but it didn't last more than a few seconds before that eerie smile was back. "Of horse, she's alhays sneaking. Hoovever, I happen to be amare of extacktly mare she is. She's hooving a nap as we speak."

Caliborn couldn't help but feel skeptical, scowling at Horuss. He couldn't bring himself to care all that much, either, though, so he just shrugged. "Whatever. I guess that means. I can just do whatever now." 

"Certamely! In fact, I was wuddering if you might be interesteed in joining me on a trip to see the horses." That fucking smile. Caliborn had half a mind to say no, but at the same time, he didn't really want to start off on bad terms with his new employer's older brother.

"Uh. I guess. If that's a thing. That you want to do." He shrugged, visibly grumpy at the fact that any free time he might have had was going to be eaten up by seeing some stupid fucking horses in a barn.

"Wudderfoal! Foallow me!" Horuss' creepy-ass smile only widened, and Caliborn flinched, following the way-too-tall-to-even-be-considered-human guy out to the stables. 

* * *

Meanwhile, in that very same diner where Equius had hired Caliborn, the Zahhak sat, sweating profusely, gripping his glass of milk to the point of nearly breaking it. In fact, he'd already broken several glasses. The waitress, one Roxy Lalonde, had been ever so kind about it, and she'd asked what he was waiting for, though the only response he had was that he was waiting for a business colleague. 

A business colleague that he was apparently very nervous to meet with. He glanced at the door nervously several times from behind his cracked sunglasses, wiping his sweaty palms on his shorts. His lips were pursed into a tight line and he was gripping his shorts now, rather than his glass of milk. He only tensed further when his business associate walked through the door, a grin on his face and fire in his eyes.

Equius adjusted himself as the man sat down across from him in an attempt to improve his already perfect posture. He didn't say anything; that would be disrespectful. He always waited for the other to speak first when they met. This usually resulted in long silences and ended in laughter from the other, but today, that didn't appear to be the case.

"What's this motherfuckin' silence about?" came a quiet voice from Mr. Makara's side of the table. Equius strained to hear, but didn't dare ask for a repeat. "WHAT'S THE WICKED WORD WHAT OUGHT COME UPON MY EARS?" that time it was much louder, and Equius very nearly flinched.

He really wished he had a fresh towel in that moment, beats of sweat pouring down his face. It didn't help that he could nearly feel Miss Lalonde's eyes on them, carefully. He prayed she would be smart and keep her distance. "Things seem to be going well for young Caliborn thus far. He was, needless to say, ecstatic to receive the position. However, I must admit that he is rather abrasive, and I'm not entirely certain that he's fit for the position..." Equius trailed off when he heard Gamzee chuckling. It was a dark chuckle, and it made Equius squirm in his seat.

"Give the little dude a chance to prove what skills he done learned from yours truly," the clown-faced man insisted, quiet again. "IF HE AIN'T THE BEST MOTHERFUCKIN' NANNY WHAT YOU EVER LAID EYES ON, THEN YOU AIN'T NEVER SEEN A NANNY PROPER." The loudness was back, and this time Equius did flinch.

All the Zahhak could offer in return was a nod, and when Gamzee nodded back and got up and left without another word, he let out a sigh of relief, accompanied by a shudder. His hands were in his lap, and it almost looked like he was covering himself by the time Roxy approached him and asked if he'd like the check now. He gave a curt nod, left more money than was necessary on the table, and rushed himself out of the diner. He needed to get home and towel off, possibly shower as well. Besides, he really needed to check on Nepeta.


End file.
